We Can Never Go Back
by evgrrl09
Summary: Seventeen years after Morgan left the BAU, a young man comes to Garcia's door asking for her help to find his father. As she begins her search, Garcia must stop a vicious unsub and confront her past, or else risk losing the man she loves for good. Morgan/Garcia. Hints of Garcia/Alvez.
1. Seventeen Years Later

**Disclaimer: I do not own** _ **Criminal Minds**_ **or its characters.**

 **Author's Note: Hello all! It's been awhile since I've posted, but this new idea bit me and the whole outline is all done. I've decided to put my other stories on hold indefinitely to work on this new one. I wanted to try something new with Morgan and Garcia and a different tone than what I usually do for my fanfiction stories. Hope you will enjoy!**

"We're here," the Uber driver grumbled from the front seat of his car.

The teen boy in the back seat nodded and grabbed his duffel from beside him. He stepped out of the car and looked around. Washington DC was virtually a foreign country to him. His Uber had taken him past the Capital Building and he had seen the Washington Monument in the distance. Everything here was so different from the Midwest, where he had spent his entire life.

His mother used to tell him about the city where he'd been born. Her eyes would be overcome with a bittersweet light that she may have been happier there once. He hadn't had a chance to ask her before she died, and his father never answered any questions about it either. When he looked around the city streets and listened to the bustle of twilight traffic, he couldn't help but think of what might have been like if his parents had never left.

But he wasn't in the nation's capital for sightseeing or reminiscing about his mother's past. He had a specific job to do here, even though he was just seventeen years old. Shouldering his bag, he stared at the building. His stomach churned as he entered the apartment building's courtyard and made his way into the building. He looked at the mailboxes on the wall to find the exact apartment he needed.

The elevator in the main lobby was busted. With a grunt, he hoisted the bag higher on his shoulder and went for the stairwell. If he weren't so nervous he might have cared about the inconvenience. Instead, all he could do was wonder how his footfalls up the stairs could sound so much heavier than they should have.

Eventually, he reached the floor he needed. It was stunningly quiet save for the flickering of one of the fluorescent lights above him. He gulped. _You can do this_ , he lectured himself. It had been so long since he'd seen her, but he had no other choice than to show up randomly on her doorstep. He had someone depending on him and there was no one else he could think of to help him.

Upon finding the door to apartment 324, he swallowed hard, raised his knuckles, and knocked.

 **XXXXX**

Penelope Garcia poured herself a large glass of wine and sighed. It had been a long day. Hotch had finalized his retirement, JJ was thinking of leaving the BAU for a different division, and Penelope found herself looking in the mirror and seeing the only thing that could have made the day worse: gray hairs sprouting from her scalp. It was one of the worst she had had in a long while, even worse than the day she and Luke broke up a year ago.

Sighing, she went over to her couch and plopped down. She flipped on the TV for old re—runs of _Star Trek: The Next Generation_ and closed her eyes. With a gulp of her wine, she wrapped herself in a throw blanket and kicked her heels off.

She couldn't remember how this had happened to her. When had she become a borderline alcoholic who sat in front of old television shows for hours and hours until she only managed to get a few hours sleep? It was before she and Alvez broke up. He told her he loved her before he left, but that he was tired of her not loving him back.

"I do love you, though!" she had protested, even though she had not had the energy to muster tears.

He'd given her a sad smile, but shook his head. "I know you want to," he'd said. "But that's not enough to make me the one you want."

Luke and she remained friends, but she felt lonelier than ever. She quit trying to find the answer to her melancholy after that.

Soon she was on her second glass of wine and Jean Luc Picard was attempting to make peace between two feuding groups of aliens that she had hardly paid attention to. She lay on the couch, feeling empty save for the alcohol coursing through her body.

A knock sounded from the door, making her eyes snap open and gasp. Her wineglass tumbled to the ground. The crimson liquid stained the carpet, eliciting a groan from her throat. She didn't care enough to make an effort to clean up other than picking up the glass, though.

The rapping from the door grew louder. She glared at the door. "Geesh, I'm coming! Chill!"

She unlocked her front door and squinted at the person standing on her threshold. At first she didn't recognize the young man. He had deep brown skin and his head was covered in a mass of brown curls. Streaks of honey colored highlights peeked out from the depths of his curls. He was at least six feet tall and had a duffel bag slung over his shoulder.

When she met his eyes, she recognized those immediately. They were the same dark brown, almost black eyes that belonged to another man she knew.

A man from so long ago in her past she had tried to forget him.

The boy swallowed hard. "Umm, hi," he said. "Listen, I don't know if you remember me. It's been a long time since I've seen you, but I'm – "

"Hank," she said, smiling for the first time in a few weeks. It felt strange, but also familiar. She missed the days when she would smile all the time. "I know exactly who you are." Glancing around, she frowned. "Umm, are you here by yourself?"

He nodded, but his face remained stony as iron. "Yeah," he said. "I just…" Emotion struck his face all of the sudden. It was devastation. "I need your help, Aunt Penelope."

She allowed him inside the apartment. "Umm, okay," she said, closing the door behind him. "But, uh, what are you doing here? In person, I mean. Does Der – " She stopped herself abruptly, swallowing the name. She tried again, . "Do your parents know you're here? Shouldn't you be in school?" There were more questions swirling in her mind, but she refrained from asking them just yet.

Dropping his duffel bag on the ground, Hank began wringing his hands together. "That's actually why I'm here," he said. Anxiety rang in his voice, so obvious that she felt it fill the room. Goosebumps of worry raised on her arms.

Concerned, she went forward to rest a hand on his shoulder. "Sweetie, what's – "

"Dad's missing, Aunt Penelope," he blurted out. "Dad's missing, and you're the only one who can help me."

 **XXXXX**

 **17 Years Ago**

 _Derek inhaled the scent of Penelope's honeysuckle perfume as he held her in his arms. Her tears fell on his shoulder. A small sniffle filled the air between them. He held her close. She had just told him that it was him that made her feel super brave. Right then, he wished he could borrow some of that bravery because he didn't think he had the strength to let her go._

 _He hadn't realized it until this moment, that he may have made a mistake. Nothing in the world would make him regret having his son. Hank was now his whole world. But before he had Hank, Penelope had been that person. She meant more to him than even Savannah._

 _And he'd made the wrong choice._

 _Pulling back, he looked Penelope in the eye and gave her a small smile. He cupped her cheek in his hand. The tears on face wet his skin, straining his heart. His eyes fell on her ruby lips._

" _You should get going," she said, wiping her nose._

 _Derek didn't know if he could. But he mumbled a "Yeah" anyway._

 _Swallowing hard, he nodded. He leaned forward, staying away from her lips for fear he might press his own to them. Instead, he bestowed a soft kiss on her forehead._

" _Text me when you guys get to Chicago safe," she said. "Kiss my godson for me."_

" _I will," he promised._

 _Then he turned from her and left his office. He swore he heard her choke on a sob, but he couldn't bear to turn back. If he did he would never be able to leave her._

 _Maybe one day he would return one day to her. Maybe things wouldn't work out with Savannah. The deepest, most selfish parts of him wished that maybe it might happen. He wanted Hank…but he didn't want his wife._

 _As the elevator doors closed in front of him, Derek closed his eyes and pictured his son he would be returning to. Hank was all he had left now._


	2. A Cryptic Voicemail

**Disclaimer: I do not own** _ **Criminal Minds**_ **or its characters.**

 **AN: Hey all. Sorry about the delay in posting this. I'm so happy to see the enthusiasm for where this story is headed. I'm going to make it my goal to post once weekly. That seems like it would be a doable track for me since I'm now working full time and progressing with my book. Thank you all so much for the reviews! I will be responding to you individually shortly. Hope you enjoy this new chapter :)**

"What are you talking about?" Penelope stuttered. She blinked several times at Hank. Her hand dropped from his shoulder. Shock flooded her gut. "What do you mean Der – what do you mean your dad is missing?"

This was something she used to fear, a long time. When Derek – God, she'd hardly been able to even _think_ his name since they'd lost contact – was a BAU agent, there was always a fear he might never come back. Of course, it was not an unsub that had taken him away for good.

Hank swallowed hard. "He's gone," he said, wringing his hands together. "I haven't seen him in a week. I've tried calling him, but his phone goes straight to voicemail. I went to the cops, but all they've been able to do is find his car. They keep say they're looking for him, but every time I've called they haven't been able to tell me anything. And Grandma Fran is staying with – "

"Okay, you need to slow down." Penelope guided Hank towards the couch so he could sit down. She flipped the television off and took his bag from him. She sat beside him then. He wasn't meeting her eyes. His limbs shook and sweat beaded on his forehead. She could feel the anxiety radiating off him. She frowned. "What's been going on? How come Savannah let you come here on your own and not call instead?"

He looked back at her. Those dark eyes, so similar to his father's, flashed. His voice was small when he spoke. "Mom died," he said. "It's been almost three years. Breast cancer."

Penelope's hand flew to her mouth. She managed to contain her gasp. Clearing her throat, she said, "Oh. I'm…I'm so sorry, Hank. I had no idea."

Shaking his head, he said, "Yeah, well. After you and Dad lost touch, I was pretty sure you might not hear. You probably didn't hear they got divorced either?"

"No," she whispered. It was her turn to avert her eyes. She hadn't known that, but there were several inklings that sprang up in her mind that could be an answer as to why. "I always liked your mom a lot. She loved you so much."

He nodded, rubbing his temples. "I know," he said. "She and Dad fell apart long before that, but I'm pretty sure they stayed together as long as they did because of me. But she met someone else and…" His voice trailed off as he sounded like he choked on his voice. He kept tears from his eyes, but there was no way he could hide the grief in his voice. "She met her second husband and before asking Dad for a divorce, she asked me if this was something I was okay with."

It took every ounce of Penelope's strength not to start crying herself then. It had been ten years since she'd seen Savannah, and the woman had remained who she was in life: she loved Hank more than her own happiness.

Hank shook his head swiftly, as if he thought he might be able to shove his loss away like it were a fly he was swatting away. Penelope wanted to wrap her arms around him, but before she could offer a hug he moved on.

"But it's Dad that I'm here about," he said. He looked over at her finally. She was struck again by how much he was like his dad now. When he was a child, Hank had been far more like Savannah. Penelope remembered how Derek used to joke he could never get his son to play football with him because all Hank wanted to do was watch Neil Degrasse Tyson and read books about physics meant for a child.

"Not sure how I'm gonna get him on the field if he's got his mother's love for science and reads as much as our Boy Genius," Derek had said.

But right now, as the almost-adult Hank sat in front of her, all she saw was Derek. He'd acquired the same exhausted look in his eyes that his father had gained after more than a decade at the BAU. No teenager should look that way.

"When I got older, Dad decided to start a PI business," Hank said, digging into his duffel bag. From the bag he pulled a binder three inches thick and a small brown notebook. Penelope's eyes grew wide. "He's been doing it just for something to do, and he still wanted to spend time with me, so he didn't choose to go back to the police force. So this gave him work to do and he still had time to spend with me."

"Umm, Hank what is all this?" Penelope asked, pointing to the binder.

"This is all of the work from Dad's latest case," Hank said matter of factly, presenting the binder to Penelope. She took it, astonished at how much it weighed.

"This is all from _one_ case?" she asked.

Hank nodded. "Yeah," he said. "He's been working on it for a few months. And it's really weird. He's been – he's been tenser, I guess you could call it. Usually he'd tell me snippets about what he was doing, but this one was different. I got nothing out of him."

Gently, Penelope opened the binder. The first pages were basic notes on the case. She didn't even register what was written. She was too busy studying the scrawl she hadn't seen in over a decade. Her fingers traced the outline of one of the letters, but before she could delve into it, she slammed it shut. She swallowed hard.

"Hank, we need to get help from the BAU," she said. "I – I can't help – "

He cut her off. "No!" he snapped. He rubbed his hands over his face, ragged. Penelope was shocked at the abruptness of his tone. But when his eyes met hers, she felt the pain he was in. She placed a hand on his shoulder. He gave her a shaky, apologetic grimace before digging into his pocket. Producing his phone, he opened it and went to a voicemail. His finger hovered over the "Play" button. "He sent me this just before he…just before he disappeared."

Penelope sat in a shroud of silence as the crackling voice of Derek Morgan filled her living room.

" _Hey, son. It's Dad. Listen, I need you to do something for me. I'm…I'm going to need you to do something for me. I need to go away for a few days. Don't…don't worry about me_." There was a long period of tense crackling, followed by a loud and abrupt scuttling. A loud bang followed, as if someone were being struck. Penelope frowned, thinking it was the conclusion of the message, but then he spoke again. _"It's a work thing. So I need you to take care of yourself, go to your grandmother's house and stay there for a bit. She'll take care of you. I…I love you, Hank. Never forget that."_

Dry eyed, Penelope stared at the phone. It'd been a decade – or had it been longer? – since she'd heard Derek's voice. It shocked her she was so emotionless on the outside. What wasn't shocking her was the hurricane brewing inside her. Where her outward appearance showed her in the calm centered eye of the storm, inside was getting battered like a category five. His voice on that message was filled with compassion, with paternal love for his son. But beneath those layers, she heard, in fact _felt_ , the tension there, too. Simmering in his baritone voice was fear.

Fear was not lightly instilled in Derek Morgan's voice.

"I think he's been kidnapped," Hank said. His face turned ashen. "So that's why it just needs to be us to find him. If we bring the BAU in, whoever has him might kill him."

 **XXXXX**

 **16 Years Ago**

 _Derek trudged towards the elevator. His heart pounded in his chest, growing louder and louder in his ears until he couldn't hear anything else. Was he really walking away from Penelope again? He didn't know how it was possible. As he watched the light above the elevator rise with each floor it moved past. He knew he needed to head out to pick up food for Reid and his mother. It was what he was mostly in DC to do._

 _But it didn't really feel like that he was here to be a good friend._

 _The doors to the elevators opened, presenting him his obligation that he'd made for himself. He swallowed past the iron-hard lump in his throat. He remained immobile, even as the doors closed after a moment's too long hesitation._

 _Without another thought, he turned on his heel and returned the way he'd come. His heart soared when he saw she was still there. Her hand was still resting on the cheek he'd touched. Her mouth parted in an "o" of surprise. He didn't see it for long, though before his mouth crushed down on hers. He cupped her face in his hands, tender as he could be. She kissed him back in a fraction of a second, resting her hands on his waist. Her tongue slipped between his teeth, meeting his in a dance that he never wanted to end. His heart soared, a feeling of pure ecstasy flooding his whole body._

 _Their lips broke apart at last. He rested his forehead against hers. He kept his eyes closed, hoping he could hold onto this moment and engrain it into his memory forever._

 _One of her hands reached up to touch his cheek, one finger trailing into his beard while the others splayed across his cheek. He opened his eyes and stared at her. He reached up and ran his fingers through the tips of her blond hair she'd straightened into submission that day._

 _He opened his mouth to speak, but she beat him to it._

" _You have to go see Reid," she said, her voice feather soft._

 _His mind raced. Questions swirled in his mind that he wanted to ask her. What did this mean? Did she love him? She kissed him like she did, or was he just imagining it?_

 _But she smiled at him, her eyes lighting up with the answer to that most important question: yes, she did love him. That was all he needed for that moment._

 _Planting a kiss on her forehead, he nodded. "I'll call you, Baby Girl," he murmured._


	3. An Agreement

**Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds or its characters.**

 **AN: Hello, all! Apologies for the delay. I'm going through a bit of a rough patch right now, so I'm not getting a ton of writing done. However, I am still committed to this story. I'm really enjoying writing older Morgan and Garcia lol. I hope you enjoy this chapter. Much love and appreciation to you all for the reviews!**

The binder sat on the couch next to Penelope, taunting her. She had let Hank take her room for the night. There was no telling how long he had been awake on his journey to DC, and she thought he would need a real bed. Besides, after everything Hank told her there was no way she would be getting any sleep. Past events started flooding into her head until all she saw, even when she blinked, was Derek. Over a decade had passed since she'd last seen him, but there he was, floating her in peripheral vision as if he was right in the room with her.

She could almost hear his deep baritone voice saying that nickname he'd given her. _Baby Girl…_

Swallowing past the lump lodged in her throat, Penelope coughed and finished off the last sip of her wine. Again, the binder called to her. She put her head in her hands, but they shook so bad she had to put them in her lap. Savannah dead. Derek missing. Her godson worried that if he went to the police Derek would be killed. No matter what Hank said, they would have to inform someone Derek was gone. The BAU couldn't take on a local case without being invited in by the Chicago police since the case had no federal jurisdiction, but she still needed to let them know what was happening.

"Pull yourself together, Garcia," she grumbled, running her fingers through her hair. Her gut churned. Her head swam. A danger with Derek was he would never hesitate to throw himself into a perilous situation. Hank managed to change that, but not permanently it seemed. What was it about this case that threw him into a full-fledged investigation he should have gone into with backup?

Penelope was unable to stop herself. Hoisting the binder into her arms, she opened it and started poring through Derek's notes. She traced a few letters. An odd sensation ran through her as she looked at his writing. Tears wanted to break free from her eyes, but she kept them at bay.

 _Hold it together, hold it together,_ she chanted to herself.

Rubbing her face, she took a deep breath and got started flipping through the pages of Derek's notes.

 **XXXXX**

Hank awoke at the sound of an alarm. He lifted his exhausted head, feeling as though a boulder weighted down his neck. The numbers eight and zero blinked at him. It must have been his godmother's alarm to get up for work. Grunting, he thumped his hand down on the off button and swung his legs over the side of the bed. His toes settled into a plush purple throw rug. Though still exhausted, Hank knew he needed to get up and find out what Penelope was thinking if he wanted to get his father back.

Unsure, he rose from the bed and looked around the bedroom. He remembered Penelope as a bright and exuberant woman, one who lived in an apartment with purple walls and beaded curtains. She'd moved on since then to somewhere else. The walls were beige here, and there were doors to the other rooms of the apartment rather than archways with multicolored beads. He scanned the pictures on the dresser. One was of the BAU team, a jumble of faces both familiar to him and some unknown. Another was of Penelope with Derek's friend and former colleague, Jennifer Jareau; the other woman he did not recognize, a woman with dark skin and shoulder length brown hair.

Finally, he came to the photos on the end of the dresser. One of them was Henry LaMontagne in a graduation robe and cap. The other was Hank. Hank was a young child in the picture, probably just around the time his family lost touch with his godmother.

There were no photos of Derek to be found.

Hank used to wonder what happened between his father and Penelope caused them to fall out. Any time he asked when the next time they would see Auntie Penelope again, Derek and Savannah would dismiss the question right away and tell him to not ask again. By the time he was in middle school he finally learned to quit asking.

With a sigh, Hank left the bedroom to go into the living room. Rather than finding Penelope asleep on the couch, he found her enthralled in his father's research. Dark circles were under her eyes. Her face was drained by color. She didn't look up as he entered the room, too consumed with Derek's work.

"Hey," he said, his voice quiet.

Penelope looked up at him, slower than he would have thought with his surprise entrance. In the light of day he saw just how much she had changed since his childhood. Her hair was streaked with gray. Crinkles dotted the corners of her eyes. She gave him a smile, but it was a worn one, one that took effort. In many ways it reminded Hank of Derek's change over the years, with his deflated steps and his beard that was now full of gray.

"Hey back," she said. She pointed to the binder on her lap. "I've been doing a bit of reading in your dad's notes."

He sat down next to her. "Did you sleep at all?"

Penelope shrugged. "I tried, but all of this was getting to me too much and I gave up," she said. "I think – I think there's something here."

Hank's spine shot up. "Really? You do?"

"Yeah," she said. She pulled her laptop toward them and opened it to show him several newspaper articles, all about murders in Chicago. "Look at these. Every one of them is in your dad's notes. I think he was making a connection between them, like he was seeing a pattern. I might even go out as far to say he was finding the trail of an unsub."

Hank frowned. "If there's a pattern, why hasn't anyone in the Chicago PD noticed it?"

Shaking her head, Penelope said, "Sometimes the patterns are so subtle that only a trained profiler will see it." She flipped to a page in Derek's notebook with the name "Det. Dan Harmon" scrawled in the middle, followed by a phone number. She tapped the name with her index finger. Her nails were painted an electric lime color – at least she had not lost some of her sparkle.

"See this?" she said. "I think he was trying to get in touch with a cop about what he found. I need my computers at work to do a background check on him, but he's one of the lead homicide detectives in a precinct in your neighborhood."

"If he went to the cops, maybe that's why he disappeared!" Hank exclaimed.

Penelope's face did not lose its grimace. "Maybe," she said, biting her lip. "I'm not sure. I need to talk to the team about – "

He cut her off, suddenly on the defense. "No!" he said. "Remember what I told you about whoever took him maybe killing him? We can't risk it by telling the FBI about it."

"Hank, we can't _not_ tell anyone," she said, her face sympathetic. "I'm not a field agent, I'm not a profile. Basically I'm not qualified to do anything to help other than research."

He shook his head. "You're better than that! You can find all the hidden stuff no one else can. You know my dad and how he thinks. You'll be able to find him better than anyone."

For one single moment Hank was sure he saw her face crumple. Her eyes turned glassy. Weariness crept into her features. The moment he opened his mouth though, her grief vanished and she returned to normal.

"I'll do whatever I can to help you find your dad," she said. "I promise." Seeing Hank's excitement, she held up her hand. " _But_ we're going to do it with help. We'll get it on the down low, but I need help. The BAU can't help officially because they have no jurisdiction over a case like this and they weren't called in. But I can talk with the police at the precinct and I can get help via phone from a few friends."

"So…you'll come with me?" Hank said, excited.

Penelope nodded. "Get dressed," she said, pointing to her bedroom again. "We're going to go to Quantico where I can get us some plane tickets and I can tell them what's going on. I've got loads of vacation time I can use, so that won't be a problem."

Relief flooded Hank's body. Unable to help himself, he threw his arms around Penelope in a tight hug. She gave him a gentle squeeze back. "Thanks, Aunt Penelope," he said, feeling like for the first time since Derek disappeared that there might be some way of finding him.

"We'll find him," she said. "I won't stop until we do."


	4. On Her Own

**Disclaimer: I do not own** _ **Criminal Minds**_ **or its characters.**

 **AN: So I'm rather pleased with myself for getting this one done in a more timely manner lol. I'm having a little bit too much fun with this. I hope you'll enjoy this chapter!**

 **A quick side note: I have not watched any episodes since Shemar Moore left (save for the scenes between him and Kirsten on Youtube!), so I do apologize if the characterization of Luke does not reflect who he is on the show. At some point I'm sure I'll get around to watching seasons 12 and 13 in their entirety, but today is not that day.**

"Luke, I need to talk to you."

Penelope walked into Luke Alvez's office, the one that once belonged to Derek Morgan. She closed the door behind her, giving him a pointed look. Under one arm she clutched the binder from Derek. Luke looked up and away from his computer. He arched a brow at her. Leaning back in his chair, he said, "Yeah? What's going on? You look a little off."

Truthfully, she felt more than just a little off. She felt rattled, like she would burst into flame at any moment. "I need your help," she said.

He smiled. "Oh? What can I do to help you out, Garcia?" He glanced around her to look through the blinds on his window. Outside the office, staring at a wall of photos of FBI agents from years past was Hank. His hands were shoved in the pockets of his sweatshirt, his shoulders slumped as he tried shrinking himself away from anyone that went through the hall. "Anything that has to do with that kid standing around out there looking nervous?"

"Yeah, actually," she said. "That's…that's Hank, my godson. And, actually, it's the two of us need your help."

Luke's eyebrows shot up. "Hank? As in Hank Morgan, Derek Morgan's son?"

Penelope pursed her lips. "Yeah, that's who he is," she said, tip-toeing around saying Derek's name.

"And, uh, what is he doing here?" Luke asked. "Didn't you lose contact with them all years ago?"

"Yeah, yeah I did," she said in a small voice. "But listen, how long it's been since I've seen them isn't the point." She went on to fill him in on everything Hank had told her. She set the binder down in front of him on the desk.

"I think Der – " She stopped right in the middle of saying his name. "I think Hank's dad was on to something. I looked at some of the articles he put in this and he made notes. He found a pattern." She flipped to one of the articles about a man found in an abandoned mechanics shop on the east side of Chicago. "See, this man had significant signs of torture and had been missing for two months. But he was homeless, so it took longer for someone to go to the cops to say he was missing." She flipped the page to another story, this one with even more notes. "But her, Molly Clark? She was only gone for a week. There were signs of torture, but nowhere near as severe as the John Doe found."

Luke frowned at her. "Umm, Garcia I don't think I'm seeing what you're seeing. Or what Morgan is seeing for that matter."

She shook her head vigorously. "Look at his notes! He wrote that the difference between these two particular cases is that the signs of torture were similar, but the bodies were found almost immediately after the police were called in. So someone is taking people, and they're torturing them for as long as they can until the cops begin looking for the victims. It's the same with the other three cases he's found. But no one is noticing because the time is so spread out between when they're reported missing."

"Garcia, he hasn't profiled in years," he said, skeptical. "Being a PI isn't exactly the same thing."

A streak of defensiveness reared its head inside her. "He was one of the best profilers we had, Alvez," she snapped. "Profiling isn't just something you lose the ability to do."

He rubbed his face. "So…what? You think he got taken by an unsub when he started getting on the trail?"

"I don't know for sure, but I heard the voicemail he left for Hank," she pleaded. "His most recent case was a man who came to him to find his sister, but he didn't trust the police. So he hired a PI. An unsub wouldn't notice someone privately seeking him out. But if he found him, he could make him the new victim. Someone has him and we need to get him back." Her voice grew even quieter. She felt weary after reciting everything back to Luke. But she had to keep going. "He's all Hank has left now. We can't leave a boy without his dad, not when we can do something."

She felt like she'd just run a marathon as she waited with bated breath for what Luke would say. At first she couldn't read his face. His expression was clouded with neutrality. She'd gone to Luke before anyone else because she believed their previous romantic relationship might soften him to the possibility of helping her with her wild goose chase for a man none of them had spoken with in over a decade. When she lost contact with Derek, so had the rest of the BAU. Distance and work schedules and life in general was too much for them to want to speak to their old friend. Penelope often thought, sardonically, how even the bond forged through being through multiple life threatening situations together wasn't even enough to survive trivial matters.

"Penelope," he said, finally blinking and breaking eye contact. "You do know we can't go in on this right? It's a local gig. And if Hank already went to them and they said they found his car, then they clearly know about it."

"But they haven't gotten back to him about anything else!" she protested. "It's like they're not even doing a damn thing to look for him! And I have the phone number of a detective that he was talking to. I think we might be able to find out more if we talk to him."

He rose to his feet from behind the desk and went to stand in front of her. Placing both hands on her shoulders, he said, "Doesn't matter. We have no jurisdiction there and they haven't given us a call. You _know_ that."

Cursing, she averted her eyes. Of course she knew there was no way the BAU could go in. The fact she was even trying to convince Luke that they should try to get the rest of the team on board was ludicrous in and of itself. That didn't mean she wasn't going to try, though.

"Luke?" she murmured, looking back at him. Tears floated on the surface of her eyes.

"Hmm?" he asked.

She sniffled. "Will you come with me and Hank to Chicago?" she asked. "I know it's a lot to ask, I know it! But we could use your help. _I_ could use your help." It wasn't fair that she was laying the pitiful act on thick, but she needed a profiler with her. With Hotch and Rossi retired, JJ with her children still living at home, and Reid out of the country on a teaching sabbatical, she only had Luke as a potential ally. It would be much harder for her to be useful to Hank – or Derek, for that matter – if she was going alone.

Luke studied her face a long moment. He moved his hands from her shoulders to take both her hands. He gave one a gentle squeeze. "Why are you doing this?" he asked. "You haven't talked to the guy in ten years. You'd never tell me what happened between you two, even when we were together. So why are you ready to jump on the next flight to Chicago to go find him?"

"Are you saying no?" she asked, ignoring his questions about her motives. Hell, she didn't even know the answers to those questions. But he didn't say anything. Pulling her hands from his grasp, she turned for the door and didn't spare a look back at him. Before leaving the office, she muttered, "I'll call you if I need to."

She left before he could reply, shutting the door firmly. The tears dried from her eyes as soon as she stepped out into the hall.

Hank's face shot to her, a hopeful look on his face. "Is your friend going to help us?" he asked, desperate.

Clearing her throat, she said, "No, he isn't. He'll probably answer if I call. But for right now, we're on our own." She met Hank's eyes, Derek's eyes. She could feel the blood fleeing her face. Nausea rolled through her gut and she swallowed hard. She wasn't entirely sure she could take this mystery on by herself, but she was damned if she didn't give it a try.

Desperation turned to concern. "Aunt Penelope, are you okay?" he asked. "You look really...sick?"

Was she? Penelope couldn't quite answer it. Luke's refusal to help was logical. She couldn't really fault him for it. She didn't think it was that that made her feel ill. Luke wasn't the man making her feel the way she did.

"I'm fine," she lied. She forced a smile. "C'mon. We've got to grab some things from my office and buy plane tickets. We'll get a cab to Dulles soon as we can."

 **XXXXX**

 **15 Years Ago**

 _When Derek got the call from JJ, he'd gotten on the first plane he could. He remembered the unsub the team was hunting like a monster in a nightmare. And if he was seeing a monster, he could only imagine what Penelope was seeing when she closed her eyes._

 _Now, as they sat in his old office, he watched her face light up in childlike delight as she viewed the short video of Hank saying "hello" to her._

" _Thank you for this," she murmured, putting her phone down in her lap. "I really needed it."_

 _He nodded. "Of course," he said. He watched her face carefully. Since the last time he'd seen her there had been nothing said about their kiss. He hadn't been able to stop thinking about it. But her silence spoke louder than anything, so he didn't bother bringing it up. That didn't stop him from wondering about it, though. Every single day he wondered about it. Part of him thought maybe she moved on to someone else._

 _Maybe his replacement. Alvez had a look in his eye when he teased Penelope. Derek despised that look._

 _Penelope stared at her hands. Her breath sounded shaky, like it was teetering on a balance beam. She held something back. He knew her well enough to see she wanted to hide something._

" _I – I know you said you couldn't stay," she whispered. "But…" She choked on her voice. "Frack, I don't even know how I can ask for this. Especially when you have to get back to that sweet baby boy and – "_

 _He cut her off. "Spit it out, Baby Girl." He knew what she was going to say. And he couldn't believe it, but he was going to say yes in a heartbeat._

" _Stay. Please." She lifted her head and met his eyes. Those whisky colored eyes shimmered behind her tears. He had his answer for what she felt right then and there, just by looking at her. "Just a little bit longer. Not even for the night."_

 _Moments later they were in her office. He hated himself for staying, but he loved having her in his arms. Her skin was soft in his hands, especially her thighs he stroked under her skirt. She was ravenous, linking one of her legs around his waist. She tasted like tangerines and green tea. Keeping one hand on her thighs, he brought the other up to stroke her cheek. It came away wet, stained with tears._

" _What's wrong?" he whispered, resting his forehead against hers._

 _She choked on a sob. "Do you ever hate yourself for something you've done? But it's something you've always wanted?"_

 _She meant right now, his body pinning her against the wall. She meant what they were doing when he had a wife and child back home waiting for him. He knew exactly what she meant._

" _When I'm with you, I don't," he murmured, feeling that same flash of self-loathing creep up his spine._

 _Wiping her tears, she shook her head and wrapped her arms around his neck. She captured his lips again. Her fingers trailed underneath his shirt, tracing circles on his abdomen that sent small electric shocks through his whole body. Those deft fingers went for his belt buckle next, hastily undoing it so she could release him from the confines of his jeans. He sucked in a breath, pushing her up against the wall so her legs snaked around his waist. He thrust her panties out of the way, then thrust into her. They melded together and he didn't think he'd ever fit with someone who made him feel so complete._

" _Derek," she whispered in his ear. Her teeth scraped against his earlobe. And then he forgot everything else._

 _Everything but Penelope._


	5. A Familiar Face

**Disclaimer: I do not own** _ **Criminal Minds**_ **or its characters.**

 **AN:**

The flight had been long enough that Hank was able to catch a few more hours of sleep after his restless night. By the time they returned to Chicago he wanted to be alert and oriented as possible to begin their search for his father. It was only the beginning of his senior year of high school, so he figured missing a few weeks would probably not affect him graduated on time. His GPA might suffer, something Derek would certainly frown at, but getting into MIT hardly seemed like it should be on the top of Hank's list of concerns.

Penelope, on the other hand, still had not slept a wink on the flight. Before dozing off, Hank observed her hastily trying to stop her hands from shaking and thumbing through Derek's small notebook. He noticed before they even got on the plane that she ignored every single call that came in on her phone, and that she could hardly keep herself from tracing his father's handwriting. Hank wasn't even sure if she was reading and comprehending the words.

Even now, as they got in the elevator of Hank and Derek's apartment building in Chicago, his godmother still did not look any better than she had in Washington DC. Her cheeks were ashen. Her body was present, but her eyes were somewhere lost in the either. Hank felt like he was leading a ghost as they exited the elevator and went down the hall to his doorstep.

"Here we are," he said, unlocking the door.

The moment they entered the foyer of the apartment a furious voice shrieked, "Hank Franklin Morgan! What the hell did you think you were doing?"

Hank gulped, knowing that the second his grandmother's voice rang out there was going to be hell to pay for him.

"Umm, hey Grandma," he said, sheepishly.

Fran Morgan came out of the kitchen, hands on her hips. A fierce glare was plastered on her face. She had not even noticed Penelope was standing beside him.

"Don't you 'Hey, Grandma' me, young man!" she said, pointing an angry finger at him. "What did you think you were doing, disappearing like that on me? First your father, now you? You weren't answering your phone or anything! How could you do that to me?" There were tears in her eyes.

"Grandma, I left you a note," he said. "I told you what I was doing. And see, I brought – "

"Dammit, Hank! Leaving a note is not good enough!" Fran cried. "And it's definitely not okay to ignore my calls!"

Hank gestured to Penelope beside him. "But I brought Aunt Penelope, just like I said I was going to," he said.

Fran stopped for a moment, unsure of what to do. But mid-pause she turned to take in Penelope, squinting for a moment as she tried to recognize who she was looking at. For a moment Hank thought Fran might have forgotten all about who Penelope even was. But the recognition lit up in her eyes.

"Oh my goodness!" she exclaimed. "Penelope? Penelope Garcia?"

Penelope smiled back at Fran, but even that one didn't meet her eyes. Instead, she looked like she was seeing a ghost, one she had not expected and was not overly happy to see.

"Hi, Fran," she said, setting her suitcase down. "It's good to see you."

Fran's mouth fell agape. "What – how have you been?" she asked, breathless.

"Fine," Penelope replied. She didn't seem interested in catching up at all. When Hank looked close enough, he thought he was seeing more of the same agony he'd seen since going to Washington DC. "I heard what happened. I took some time off, so I'm here to help."

Hank noticed his grandmother's face drain of blood. He tensed with concern. "Grandma, are you okay?" he asked.

Wringing her hands together, Fran shook her head. "No, Hank," she said. "No, I'm not okay." She rested a hand on his shoulders and planted a kiss on his forehead. "Please go unpack your bag. I need to talk with Penelope for a few minutes. Alone." She gave him a harsh look before he went off. "Don't think we aren't going to talk about what you did, young man. You can't just run off on a plane like that!"

He nodded, fully intent on hiding behind the corner in the hall to overhear what they would be saying. Shouldering his duffel, he retreated down the hall. He opened the door to his bedroom and tossed his duffel in before promptly closing it and returning to the edge of the hallway. He made sure to stay out of sight.

Fran and Penelope spoke in hushed voices. Hank had to crane his neck to hear what they said.

"It's been so long since we've seen you," Fran breathed. "You don't even look like yourself."

"I know," Penelope responded. Pain coursed through her voice, as if she could hardly bear to say the words. "Derek…" Her voice trailed off at his name. She still couldn't say his name. Hank's insides burned to know what caused them to hate each other so much. Or at least resent one another. "He and I just lost touch."

Fran scoffed. "Bull," she said. "No one in the world would believe that. You two were so close. There's no way you just _lost touch_." There was silence between the two of them for a moment, a shaky one. "I'm sorry, I should be focusing on what's happening right now."

"It's alright," Penelope murmured. "I'm going to do everything I can to bring him home to Hank. That's all I want."

"Are you bringing the BAU? Will they come out?" Fran asked.

As the two went over all the details that he already knew, Hank grunted in frustration and headed back towards his room. He slid the door open as quiet as possible and went into his room to flop on his bed. His eyes drifted around his silent room, before finally falling on a photo of him and his father taken not too long ago.

A heavy sigh escaped Hank's lips as he stared at the picture, wondering what was going through his father's head at that moment. Where was he? There was no way he was just off working a case. Part of Hank wondered if that was all Derek had been doing, that the voicemail had been because he couldn't discuss the case at all. No amount of mental gymnastics could lead Hank to the conclusion that his father was safe somewhere, just unable to make contact. There was no reason he would leave his car somewhere and ghost his son or mother.

With no other way to tumble upon an idea, all Hank could hope was that the woman he'd begged to come out with him could dig into a fizzled friendship to find Derek.

XXXXX

"My dear, I'm so happy to see you," Fran murmured, taking Penelope's hand. Tears welled up in her eyes.

Penelope squirmed, unsure of what to say. She had been so busy worrying about what might have happened to Derek that she forgot the inevitable reunification with Fran. There was nothing to say. Truth was, after things fell apart between Derek and Penelope, his mother tried multiple times to call Penelope, only to be ghosted. Penelope had been so intent on running away from the things and people that made her hurt that she didn't feel up to calling Fran back to answer her hurried voicemails.

"Yeah," she whispered, looking at her hand in Fran's. "It's good to see you too, Fran."

Sniffling, Fran said, "If you're here on your own, how will you be able to find anything? What can you do without the team being able to come in?"

"Well, I have my equipment in my suitcase," she said. "I grabbed some hardware from my office before we got to the airport. I'm going to do everything I can to retrace his steps."

Fran nodded. She met Penelope's eyes, holding her gaze for an uncomfortably long time interval. Her face wilted more and more with each passing second until her voice broke. "Please, Penelope," she murmured. "Won't you tell me what happened between you and Derek? It's been ten years and neither of you spoke for that long. What happened?"

Penelope swallowed hard, breaking the gaze with Derek's mother. She looked towards the windows where she saw the twilight sky and heard the sounds of late summer Chicago traffic. So many thoughts had swirled through her head like a hurricane before she got here and she had not thought of any words she could actually say to take those thoughts out into the world. She could hardly look at Fran right then without thinking of every moment of the affair she'd had with Derek for five years.

"There's a long story to that, Fran," she said, tiredly. "I…I'd really rather not talk about it right now. Maybe another time. Right now I need to go get a hotel room and – "

"Oh, no no!" Fran said. "No, you won't be getting a hotel. You can stay here. I know Hank would rather stay in his own bed and home. I still live close by, I'll be here every day. But I would love for you to be able to bond with him a bit more. He missed you so much."

Penelope's eyes widened. "Fran, I mean, the message was for him to stay with you. I don't think I have any legal right to do that. "

Fran shook her head vigorously. "I insist, sweetie," she said. "You're his godmother. You're in Derek's will as the person who will take care of Hank if something happens to him. I think you'll be fine to stay with him."

She couldn't help but blink in silence at Fran. In his will? Derek hadn't even had a will the last time they saw one another, at least not one he told her about. She could hardly imagine him having put her in there as the guardian of his son after their split.

However, Fran didn't seem to notice Penelope's hesitancy. She just leaned in and wrapped her in an embrace. It took Penelope aback, but she eventually hugged Fran back. The scent of Fran's perfume was familiar to her, white gardenias.

"I'll be back tomorrow morning," she said. "I need to go home and get some things together. I've also got to let Sarah and Desiree know you're here and fill them in."

"Tomorrow is Monday, so I'm assuming Hank needs to get to school," Penelope said, slightly uncomfortable. She had no idea what to do when raising a child, even though Hank was eighteen. She had been good at being the fun auntie, but raising a child was not something she had in her repertoire. It hadn't been something she wanted. Yet here she was, about to take on sending Hank to school, helping make meals, making sure he didn't get himself into danger. And all of that on top of finding Derek.

Fran nodded. "Yes," she said. "He lives close enough to walk, which he does every day. Make sure to get him up by seven in the morning, so he can be there by eight when the day starts. And don't let him try and tell you he's going to help you find his dad. The boy is much more like Savannah, but he can bust out Derek's charming attitude to get what he wants. He's still in trouble." Penelope opened her mouth, ready to say she had no idea how to discipline a teenager. Fran smiled and waved a hand. "Don't you worry, dear, I will figure something out for that. You just worry about him getting his butt to school."

"Okay, I can do that," Penelope said. She and Fran started walking to the door. As Fran opened it and readied herself to leave, Penelope found herself putting a hand on the other woman's arm. "I'm going to find him for you. I'm going to do everything I can. I promise."

Derek's mother gave her a sad smile. Mist clouded her eyes. "I know you will," Fran said, patting Penelope's hand.

Then she was gone, leaving Penelope to lean against the closed door and breathe in a deep inhale of stress. Everything happened in a whirlwind and she was still left feeling numb. If she were normal, she would be running around in a fit of emotion to keep everyone happy and calm. She would be the ever present tower of optimism that kept the rest of them from all falling down, even when things felt most dire. Yet now, as she stood in one of the most personal cases she had ever encountered, she felt like a pile of straw that would get blown over with a single gust of wind. She was no one's beacon of hope, no pillar of strength that kept people going.

 _What happened to me?_ she thought, getting a blow to the face of how unlike herself she had been for ten years. The woman she was – the woman she longed to be again – was buried, leaving nothing left but a shell of determination to find Derek.

And now that determination included finding herself.

XXXXX

 **15 Years Ago**

 _Three weeks had gone by since Derek and Penelope's tryst in her office. They'd kept in contact the entire time, sending one another texts whenever they could. He got a small thrill in his gut anytime his phone pinged with a message from her. They both agreed they could never sleep together ever again, but Derek had a sneaking inkling something else would happen._

" _Dada!" Hank babbled from his high chair. He waved his hands around wildly, a huge, shit-eating grin on his face._

 _Turning from the stove, Derek smiled back at his son. He went to the highchair and planted a kiss on the top of Hank's curl-covered head._

" _You ready for your applesauce, kiddo?" he said, opening the Motts Applesauce container and handing it and a rubber spoon. Hank smiled and began digging into the container, most of the food ending up on his hands rather than on the spoon._

 _Derek just shook his head and laughed, turning back to the stove. As he was stirring the eggs in the skillet, he glanced at the clock. Savannah had been due to get back from her night shift at eight o'clock in the morning, but a significant car accident had caused her boss to keep her for a double shift._

 _So when he received a call from Penelope, he took it immediately._

" _Baby Girl," he answered, a sly grin spreading across his face. He put his scrambled eggs on a plate and went to sit at the table beside Hank. His son continued to demolish his applesauce container, getting it all over the high chair tray table._

" _Hello, my love," she purred into the phone._

 _Derek couldn't stop himself from smiling as he leaned back in his chair. He didn't have the will to hold a smile back. He put his fork down and stroked his beard. "What can I do for you?"_

" _Well, I wanted to see if you wanted to meet up at some point when I'm in your lovely part of the country next month for an FBI tech conference," she said, a coy tone creeping into her voice as it so often did whenever they traded flirtations back and forth._

" _You gonna be in town? Say it ain't so," he said, shoveling a forkful of his breakfast into his mouth. He smiled. "You want to stay here? Savannah's got the guest room up and running in the new house."_

 _She paused for a long moment. The silence was deafening, guilt-ridden. "No, I don't think I'll stay with you guys in the suburbs," she murmured. "But the convention is getting held at the Palmer House downtown. Not sure how much time I'll have, but I'll definitely get together with you, Savannah, and Hank for dinner. If you ever have time of your own, you could come visit me?"_

 _It was his turn to be silent, but he knew exactly what her hesitant voice meant. Leaning forward, the phone still pressed to his ear, he used a napkin to clean up his giggling son's face of any evidence of applesauce._

" _I would love to come visit you when you're here for your conference, Garcia," he said, letting his smile slip into his voice and not caring where his words would take them._


	6. Flood of Memories

**Disclaimer: I do not own** _ **Criminal Minds**_ **or its characters.**

 **AN: Hi, all. I'm sorry for the very long delay in posting. I'm also sorry that I have been horrible about responding to reviews with this story. Please know that I appreciate every review left and all of those reading. Here's the last chapter before we take off on the case portion of the story!**

Hank went to bed early that night, leaving Penelope sitting in silence in Derek's apartment. Only her thoughts kept her company. She found a few bottles of beer in the fridge and drank one. The beer was bitter on her tongue, but she finished it anyway.

She took time to explore. It was a good size, having rooms for both Hank and Derek, a kitchen that flowed directly into the living room, and another bedroom converted into an office for Derek. She would go into the office tomorrow; it was almost midnight and she was nowhere near the headspace to focus on a crime.

Instead, she studied the apartment, its every nook and crack on the wall, all the photos lined neatly around the television. Derek always liked everything being neat. If ever she needed help with spring cleaning, Derek was always the one she called. Frequently she would catch him straightening the knick-knacks she once kept in her office when he thought she wasn't looking.

"Clutter means comfort, my love," she had told him.

He had rolled his eyes. "I'll be damned if I let you work in this," he groused. "How can you keep all the shit you fill us in on when you can't function in your own damn office."

Her only response had been to purr a laugh.

Heaving a shaky sigh, she flipped the lights off in the living room and started down the hall for Derek's room. She pushed the door open, the streetlights outside guiding her towards the lamp on the bedside table. She set her bag down and looked around. The room was sparse. Derek's rooms always had been. On his dresser was a picture of Hank. His son was dressed in a suit and tie, apparently at an academic decathlon event. Every surface shined as if he dusted three times a day. The bed was immaculately made. A barely read book sat on his nightstand. There was a pair of reading glasses on top of the book. She picked them up, briefly chuckling to herself about Derek needing glasses as he aged.

She sat down on the edge of the bed. Her fingertips traced the lining on the pillows. Before she could stop herself, she pulled the pillow to her chest and took a deep inhale. The woodsy, musky scent of Derek filled her nostrils. Her heart stopped as the memories flooded back into her head. She felt his arms around her again, a bundle of silky ribbons knitting a tight cocoon around her. She remembered looking down at him from her spot straddling his hips when her heart was filled to the brim with ecstasy and guilt.

As if the pillow burned her, she thrust it away. Her eyes stung and she was struck by a freight train of emotion. She choked on a sob, barely able to contain it. Balling her left hand into a fist, she covered her mouth and trying her hardest not to fall into a well of tears.

Pushing her glasses up on top of her head, she wiped her eyes gently. She sniffled. How was she going to be able to get through this case when she could barely hold herself together just sitting on the edge of his bed?

To distract herself, she pulled the binder out of her bag, as well as a laptop. She changed her mind: she was going to work. Anything would do to take her focus away from her love for Derek. It didn't even matter that it had to do with grisly murders that usually made her stomach roll.

She flipped first to what he had about the homeless John Doe. Apparently he was listening into a police scanner because he had a transcript about when the body was found. He had autopsy information detailing every single torture mark on the man's body. Ligature marks bruised his wrists while black splotches covered his torso, back, and chest. Both his shoulders were dislocated, indicating he may have been strung up. Oddly enough, he showed no signs of malnutrition or dehydration. Whoever had taken him clearly had kept him fed for some purpose. What had killed him wasn't the torture, but a bullet in the back of his skull.

Chewing on her lip, she studied Derek's notes scrawled in the margins:

 _Quick and painless death compared to the extreme signs of sadism. Connection to the revelation that John Doe was missing? Killed before the search could begin?_

She frowned. How could he have gotten all this paperwork? They were clearly copies, but who made them for him? Or had he made them himself? Derek had always been resourceful, it was possible he might have snuck into the morgue or a police station. She flipped in his notebook back to the phone number of the detective. She studied Derek's note. Her fingers traced the numbers. She needed to speak to the detective as soon as possible.

Glancing at the clock, she sighed. It was almost three o'clock in the morning. Hank needed to be off to school in just a few short hours and she needed to get him out the door before she could do any real work.

She set aside the laptop and notebooks on the floor before rising to slip out of her clothes. Once dressed for bed, she slid under the covers and shut the light off. Laying in the darkness of the room, she inhaled the scent of the sheets once more. The sound of the city outside rang in her ears, but somehow Derek's voice slid into her ears. She was consumed with a longing for him with a strength that she hadn't felt in ages. Her chest clenched, as did her fists around the edges of the blanket on top of her. Curling into a ball, she closed her eyes as tight as she possibly could.

But even with eyes squeezed shut so hard they hurt, Penelope was unable to stop the onslaught of sobs that wracked her entire body.

 **XXXXX**

 **15 Years Ago**

" _They gave you all some pretty sweet digs for this conference," Derek commented, looking around the hotel room Penelope was staying in for her short time in Chicago. He grinned at her, wiggling his eyebrows. She stood at the door to the room. A grin was spread across her face. It only half reached her eyes, but when she strode towards him and wrapped her arms around his neck, he didn't even mind._

" _Only the best for the Bureau's finest," she purred. Her teeth grazed his earlobe, sending shivers up and down his spine._

 _He laughed. "Nice of you to call me one of the finest even though I retired." He buried his face in her neck, trailing kisses down her throat._

 _With a snort, she pushed him back on the plush linens of her bed. "Not you, silly boy," she said, straddling his waist. "_ I'm _one of their finest. You're old news."_

 _Neither of them said much more. The sounds of heavy breathing and deep sighs filled the room as they tore the clothes from one another's bodies. Derek finally gained the upper hand over her, rolling Penelope under him so he could look down into her brandy-colored eyes. He took in every inch of her, from her rumpled curls to lily skin. Her face was flushed, hot and rosy from his kisses and love bites on her neck. The hesitation in her eyes when they entered the room was gone. Instead, she smiled up at him. Her eyes were filled with devotion, adoration. No one had looked at him with such desire and love before._

 _The words tumbled from his mouth before he could stop himself, "I love you, Penelope."_

 _It came out as a whisper, but the strength of what he said filled the room as if he had yelled it._

 _She leaned up, kissing him tenderly. "I love you, too," she whispered, hand slipping between their bodies and guiding him into her. Their bodies rocked together gently, like waves lapping at the shoreline. She was perfect, her soft body melding into his until they could no longer be separated from one another. The connection between them pulsed, burning stronger and stronger until it culminated into the fiercest climax he had ever experienced._

 _Penelope stroked the back of his neck. Her lashes rested lightly against her cheeks. His hands caressed her breasts, even as he slid off of her to lie beside her. Wrapping his arm around her waist, he kissed the side of her head._

 _They were quiet for a long time after that. Derek played with the tips of her bed-rumpled hair. She traced indiscriminate patterns on his abdomen. He felt like he held the whole world in his arms at that moment. If he let her go, anything and everything would fall apart for him._

" _Did you mean it?" she whispered finally._

" _Hmm?" he asked. "Mean what?"_

 _She sighed. "When you told me you love me," she said. "Did you mean it?"_

 _Leaning up on his side, he tilted her chin up to look her straight in the eye. "There are two people in the world I would never lie to: my son, and you. I do love you." He pressed his lips to hers. "I love you and want to make up for the mistake I made when I walked out of your office when I left the BAU."_

 _She chewed on her lip. "What do you mean?" she asked, unsure._

" _I mean that someday soon, we're going to be together," he vowed._

 _Penelope blinked at him. Her mouth fell open. "You mean…"_

 _He nodded. "Someday, I'm going to leave Savannah." Pulling Penelope into his chest, he kissed her mouth, her neck, her cheeks, the valley between her breasts. He meant everything he said. It hadn't been a prepared speech, but it was as earnest as if he'd been forming it for years. And in some ways he had been planning it, even if not consciously. "I'm going to leave her, and we're going to be together."_

" _Derek…" she murmured. "I love you so much. So, so much. But I don't want anything we do to hurt Hank, and that's all that this will do."_

" _I will always protect my son," he whispered. "And I'm always going to protect you. I'm going to find a way to make this work."_

 _Heaving a deep sigh, Penelope chewed her lip and rested her head against Derek's chest. He kissed the top of her head, his head swimming with how he would accomplish everything he wanted, and protect his child._


End file.
